


Against the Sky

by Tabithian



Series: Port of Call [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5641900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's this place, right on the edge of the spaceport. It's not hidden away so much as it's not something likely to catch the eye of tourists and commuters passing through on their way to other, brighter parts of the galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Against the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Today was a snow day for me and a complete inability to focus on anything? But then there was [this post](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/136642445514/descaliers-dragoncharming-all-ur-fave), so.

There's this place, right on the edge of the spaceport. It's not hidden away so much as it's not something likely to catch the eye of tourists and commuters passing through on their way to other, brighter parts of the galaxy.

Gets its fair share of curious off-worlders looking for something new and exotic to tell their friends and family about when they go back home, but.

It's pretty standard as far as these things go. Lighting's a bit off, in deference to non-human eyes. The air's an unusual mix, too, but that might be more to do with the things they serve there than catering to the clientele. 

Jason stops by there when his route lines up right, just enough fuel to get him the next system over if he doesn't push things or run into trouble. 

Or, and this is the kind of thing Bruce taught him, that Dick harped on about all the damn time. (Alfred never offered a word either way, but he says more with a quirk of his eyebrow than anyone would think possible.)

So Jason plays it smart, stops at this little planet a system early to refuel and restock. Run diagnostics and get his ship looked over before any minor repairs that might need to be made turn into a major one in the middle of a cargo run.

Makes his way through crowds of gawking tourists and shady shopkeepers to the edge of the spaceport. This little place tucked in between a repair shop and a pawnshop that sells things like coffee brewed from beans and not some godawful synth-replacement. Tea Alfred would approve of and a whole slew of things from different races humanity's run into and forge alliances with.

Not really the kind of thing people are used to seeing this far out, which probably explains why it's doing so well.

Pilots like Jason who ran out of the real stuff a few systems back and would rather go cold turkey than drink another mug of the swill you get from the synth-replacement. Tourists thinking they've stumbled on some local secret (half-true), and looking smug about it. 

He doesn't quite have a tab here, but - 

“Hey.”

He knows the guy who runs it. 

This tiny guy, from Earth to go by his accent. Dark hair and these big blue eyes, and did Jason mention the guy was tiny? 

Because he is.

Pocket-sized, really.

“Hey.” Tim grins, kind of doofy when he sees Jason. “You didn't tell me you were headed out this way.” 

Jason feels the corners of his mouth turning up as he shrugs, tension from a trip that's only half done. Cargo waiting on him on his ship, clients waiting on him at end of a week-long flight to nowhere.

“Last minute job running medical supplies out to the colony worlds,” he says, which isn't a complete lie.

There are medical supplies, and a few things extra Jason gets a bonus for if he can get them past the customs patrols between here and the colony worlds. 

Contraband, in a way.

The harmless kind. (Mostly harmless.) 

Things the colonists haven't seen in months, maybe years way out in the middle of nowhere, little treats, delicacies the rest of the galaxy takes for granted. Place big enough tariffs and taxes on them that people like Jason stand to make a good living off if they're careful enough about it. 

Tim raises an eyebrow, and really, Jason needs to find a way for him to meet Alfred because he has a feeling it would be _amazing_.

“Would I lie to you?” Jason asks, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

And Tim.

The little shit rolls his eyes, because he knows Jason well enough by now to see through his bullshit.

“You have,” Tim says, and it comes out fond. “You do.”

All the time, actually, because Tim will make this face – the one he's making right now – and Jason kind of loves seeing it.

He doesn't get to see it, or Tim nearly enough.

There's always busy shuttling from one system to another hauling cargo or carrying passengers when he's strapped for credits. There's always another job of some kind or another to pay the bills, keep his rust-bucket flying. There's always _something_ , but in between all of that there are moments like _this_.

“Hey,” Jason says. “Miss me?”


End file.
